


the alphabet of feeling

by dayevsphil



Series: dayevsphil commissions [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Era (Phandom), Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayevsphil/pseuds/dayevsphil
Summary: There are so many things that Phil doesn’t know how to say out loud.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: dayevsphil commissions [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682980
Comments: 17
Kudos: 129





	the alphabet of feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JudeAraya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/gifts).



> for jude ♥ you're such a fun person to work with and a good pal, i had so much fun writing this for you!
> 
> reblog on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/616565587866451968/the-alphabet-of-feeling)

Phil has lived in this house for as long as he can remember. Its walls hold more of himself than any other building on the planet, and it isn't just from the photos on the walls or the Phil-shaped dents in some of the furniture. He's watched the rooms change as the world and his parents did; the kitchen has been rearranged so many times that Phil still reaches for cereal in cupboards it hasn't resided in since he was a teenager.

He's comfortable here. That's not in question. But lately it's been feeling more and more like something's missing.

Something, someone. Whatever. Phil wakes up in the mornings and reaches for a warmth that isn't there. He settles instead for grabbing his phone and reading whatever messages he'd gotten after falling asleep. It's not the same.

The house is probably haunted by actual ghosts, but it's got a new one now. There's a pretty, big-eyed teenager making himself smaller than he is in every corner of the familiar house. He isn't actually there, of course - Phil isn't going mad or anything. He just can't separate Dan from the walls of his bedroom, his home, any more than he can separate Dan from his own existence.

Every time Dan visits, Phil wants to tell him that. It sounds stupid in his own head, saying _I missed you so much that my house doesn't feel the same without you_ , so he never actually gets the words out. There's a lot of words that Phil can't seem to say once Dan is in reaching distance. They joke and bicker the whole time, and Phil even manages semi-serious whispered conversations between their pillows in the darkness, but for the most part Phil is holding back.

There are things that are easier to type than they are to say, and those things have been piling higher and higher as Phil's feelings have been expanding, growing, consuming every part of his life that Dan doesn't already permeate.

Besides, when Dan is in reaching distance, Phil is usually too distracted by reaching _for_ him to talk. They don't get enough time together, Phil doesn't get to touch Dan enough. They can talk when they're two hundred miles apart. Once Dan gets back on that damned train, Phil doesn't get the luxury of tangling his fingers in Dan's hair, nipping at Dan's collarbones, wrapping his legs around Dan's waist.

It's not a difficult choice. They talk when they're apart and they touch when they're not. But the ghost of Dan blinking at him from his peripheral vision is so distracting, makes Phil feel like his home is emptier than it actually is, and he wonders if Dan knows that he belongs here.

Phil has seen where Dan lives. It's fine, there's nothing wrong with it, but the difference in Dan's comfort level had spoken volumes.

Right now, Phil's house is empty. Legitimately, not the imagined feeling of emptiness that he's been getting more and more frequently when Dan leaves. Phil's parents are out and the stairs creak in the total silence on his way to some toast. He never used to mind being alone. He still doesn't, usually, when the choice is between his friends or family and being by himself in his room, but alone means something completely different to him these days. Alone means Dan isn't here. Phil had never figured himself for the type of guy who would cling to his best friend, his boyfriend, whatever, but he also had never figured on Dan's existence.

So, he rings Dan. He puts his bread in the toaster and he waits for the call to rouse Dan from sleep. He used to feel bad about it, but Dan always insists that waking up to Phil's voice is the nicest way to start his day. Phil gets that.

A sleepy _'lo_ comes down the line, and Phil laughs.

"Morning," he says cheerfully. It's put on, a bit, because it continues to amaze Phil that he's allowed to be annoying and Dan will still want to talk to him. "Well, afternoon, but I just woke up too."

Dan laughs, something throaty and rough and low that makes Phil's skin tingle. "Mm, is that so?"

"We'll get no birds, either of us," says Phil. He waits a beat to see if Dan is going to be able to make any idiom connections when he's still yawning and presumably stretching. "Y'know. Because we aren't early worms."

"I got it," Dan says, fond.

The toast pops up and Phil gets to work preparing his breakfast - okay, lunch, but his mum isn't here to scold him about the distinction - as he rambles about his dreams the previous night. He invents a lot of it on the spot, because they'd actually been pretty boring. He knows Dan can tell from the quiet giggles on the other end of the line, but he doesn't mind being called out for fibbing as long as it makes Dan laugh.

Even though it's just his voice on the phone, Dan's presence makes Phil's house feel less empty. He looks out the window as he listens to Dan's review of his dreams.

There are clouds slowly moving across the blue-grey sky, which looks brighter in the reflection of the snow on the ground, and Phil can't help but remember the last time Dan was here. The cold snow under their backs, the sharp wind making their eyes water and noses red, the way Dan had laughed at the shapes Phil pretended to see in the clouds. 

"You still with me?"

Phil jolts back into the present and smiles. "Always."

It trips off his tongue far easier than it would if Dan were sat in front of him, and he can't bring himself to regret saying it when Dan responds with a wordless, happy noise. Phil never considered himself a sappy sort of person, but his feelings are too all-encompassing to keep to himself all the time.

"You seem far away," Dan notes, still with that content undercurrent that Phil associates with the best mornings of his life.

"I am," says Phil. "But I'm with you."

The distance is always there and always sucks, but there are times that it hits Phil so much harder. He wants to _reach_ for Dan right now. He wants to press his mouth to any parts of Dan's skin that he's allowed to. He wants to look Dan in the eye and tell him that he loves him.

That last thing probably isn't going to happen anytime soon, but Phil can always dream. They've said it a handful of times, but only ever when they're messaging on Skype. Something about putting it into text makes it feel less big. There are so many things that Phil can only seem to say when he's not using his voice. _I love you_. _You're gorgeous_. _I missed you so much that my house doesn't feel the same without you_.

"I wish I was there," says Dan. It's like he can read Phil's mind, or like they share a brain when it comes to this.

"Me too. What do you have to do today instead?"

"Chores, watching Adrian. The usual."

"Sucks."

"Yeah, but hopefully it means I can play Zelda without constant interruption later."

There's a beat of quiet. Phil has never been the most comfortable with silence, always aching to fill it before it gets awkward, but he's never felt that way with Dan. It's as nice to listen to Dan's soft breathing as it is to listen to him ramble about music or to listen to him fall apart under Phil.

There's no ghost in Phil's peripheral vision, but the house is still so _quiet_ without Dan. Even being quiet in the same room feels different to this.

"I miss you," Phil admits, because it's easier to say when he's not face to face with those big brown eyes that make him lose his train of thought every time without fail. "The house is quiet."

"You miss my loud mouth, huh?" Dan teases.

"Yeah."

Dan chuckles. "Yeah. I miss you, too. Next Friday can't come soon enough, I swear to god."

"I know, it's ridiculous. It's like we're in a time warp but the days are going as slow as possible. It's been Saturday for like five days, Dan."

"If you were in a time loop," Dan says, thoughtful, "what would you do?"

It's a hypothetical, but Phil sometimes feels like he really is living in one when Dan isn't here. He wakes up, he watches the corners of his home for ghosts that aren't really there, he eats toast, he dodges his parents' questions, he misses Dan. He doesn't want to say any of that right now, though, so he turns it back to Dan. "Well, what would you do?"

"I think I'd learn everything there is to know," says Dan. The answer comes so quickly that Phil gets a familiar wave of fondness. Of course, Dan has thought about this seriously enough to have a real answer. "I'd catch up on all the good movies and TV, then I'd hundred-percent every good game that's ever been made, and I'd teach myself how to do all the life skills that my parents never bothered teaching me."

Phil never knows what to say to confessions like that. Dan always says it so quickly, like he's ripping off a bandage, and he gets a bit cagey if Phil is _too_ sympathetic.

"I think I'd just spend my time loop with you," he says instead of acknowledging Dan's half-joke. He watches the clouds pass by his kitchen window and wonders if Dan is looking out his bedroom window right now, too. He wonders if they're looking at the same sky.

"Oh," Dan says, in that quietly thrilled way he gets when Phil manages to surprise him. "Pretty sure I'd get annoying as fuck, especially if I wasn't in the loop with you. It would just be one version of me forever."

"One version of you is better than none of you," says Phil.

"You're a dork."

"Yeah." Phil closes his eyes, imagines that they're sitting across the kitchen table from each other the way they've done dozens of times. In his mind's eye, Dan is holding his hand and grinning so wide that his dimples are proper caved into his cheeks. "It's because, like, I love you. And spending time with you is the only way I want to spend any of my days, y'know?"

It makes Phil's throat feel tight to say it, even to an imaginary Dan while the real Dan inhales sharply on the other end of the call.

"Love you, too," Dan says, quiet. "You make a good point. I'd only want to Groundhog Day if I was Groundhog Day-ing with you. We could consume all the media and learn important stuff together."

"We can do that anyway," Phil points out. "Just... slower."

Dan hums, and Phil wonders if he's smiling as wide as Phil is picturing. "Can't wait."

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to jude for commissioning this! and another big thank you to chicken and cat for reading this over!


End file.
